dedication to the goddess

Wiccan folk music is a genre of music that is inspired by the spiritual beliefs and traditions of the Wiccan religion. It incorporates elements of mythology, nature, and magic into its lyrics and melodies, creating a unique and enchanting sound. Wiccan folk music is often used in rituals, gatherings, and celebrations within the Wiccan community, serving as a means of connecting with the gods and goddesses and channeling their energy. The main idea of Wiccan folk music is to honor and celebrate the earth, its cycles, and the divine forces that govern them. Its songs often feature themes of empowerment, nature worship, and spiritual awakening. In addition to its spiritual significance, Wiccan folk music can also be enjoyed for its artistic value, with its haunting melodies, ethereal vocals, and rich storytelling.

In addition to its spiritual significance, Wiccan folk music can also be enjoyed for its artistic value, with its haunting melodies, ethereal vocals, and rich storytelling. Whether you are a practicing Wiccan or simply appreciate the beauty of pagan traditions, Wiccan folk music offers a captivating and magical experience..

BELL, BOOK, AND CANDLE

Sadly, these days it ain’t secret enough. Art fairs are cropping up everywhere, holding out the promise of instant cultural cachet to any dummy with deep pockets and a few connections. Plebes like me can buy a ticket to lookie-loo at any one of these high-end craft conventions, our new sacred, with the desperate hope of stumbling across something good (which happens… sometimes) or, indeed, even something great (much less than sometimes). Once upon a time, we tried to see God with art. That time might be distant history, but the need for magic, and for the terror and mystery that so often accompany it, hasn’t entirely left us. It’s still out there—in art and, of course, in life—and blessed be to the numinous handful who seek it out to show to the rest of us.

Jesse Bransford and Pam Grossman, two such people, united their charmed energies last weekend to bring us “The Occult Humanities Conference: Contemporary Art and Scholarship on the Esoteric Traditions,” at NYU Steinhardt’s Barney Building in the East Village. Bransford and Grossman gathered an impressive array of artists, publishers, and scholars who work almost exclusively with the history and imagery of occultism. In the building’s Rosenberg and Commons exhibition spaces, there were also temporary exhibitions, organized by Bransford, of magic-influenced art. Sponsored by the Phantasmaphile blog (“art – culture – mirabilia”), Observatory, and NYU Steinhardt’s Department of Art and Art Professions, the conference itself was intimate—a sold-out event of approximately one hundred attendees—and brought together a mixed audience of art students, curious novices, and the esoteric-sympathetic, along with fully immersed, hard-core experts and magickal practitioners.

I’m sad to report that I missed the first lecture, Saturday morning, by Susan Aberth, an associate professor of art history at Bard and author of a book on Surrealist artist Leonora Carrington, the subject of her talk. Many spent the weekend swooning over Aberth’s insights into the life and art of Carrington, who, since her death in 2011, has experienced something of a renaissance. And why shouldn’t she? Carrington, after all, was an unsung feminist maker of phantasmagoric images and texts who, when barely out of her teens, abandoned a privileged life of debutante balls and royal connections to become an artist and make Max Ernst—over twenty years her senior—her lover. Fabulous.

I did, however, catch the afternoon session, which included an amazing talk by William J. Kiesel, the director of Ouroboros Press—publisher of some seriously exquisite and lavishly produced books on esotericism. His “Alchemical Vessels: Vehicles of the Hermetic Tradition” was a lecture on the history of the various ovens, alembics, and crucibles used in alchemy, and an attempt to make a distinction between their literal and metaphoric functions as described in ancient alchemical texts. “Read, pray, do your work,” said Keisel. “This was the alchemist’s motto in hopes of cultivating the divine.” Lovelier words never spoken.

Left: Acep Hale and William Kiesel. Right: Pam Grossman delivering her lecture at the OHC.

A little later that evening, Pam Grossman, founder of Phantasmaphile and one of the women behind Observatory, discussed contemporary art and the occult, and explained how she uses magical thinking to détourn the vicissitudes of daily life in New York City. “If only,” mumbled an evil witch in the audience, who was enshrouded in some kind of fucked-up Laura Ashley/harlequin drag. Grossman also framed Walter De Maria’s New York Earth Room, 1977, and Broken Kilometer, 1979, as sites of otherworldly power, comprising earth, brass, lucky numbers, and sacred geometries—temples of magic tucked away on West Broadway and Wooster that seem to have much in common with archaic traditions and earth mysteries that go back to that premodern time before Minimalism and Land art.

This debut from South African-born, now Waiheke Island-based Alex Stone claims to be the first novel ever written ‘in first-person elephant.’ I can't see there being a. a herd of competitors.

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dedication to the goddess